


A Mixtape Named Joyce

by ratbox



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Mixtape, Mutual Pining, Sad Joyce Byers, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbox/pseuds/ratbox
Summary: hopper had made joyce a mixtape, and she stumbles across it.
Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	A Mixtape Named Joyce

**Author's Note:**

> yes i did cry writing this. yes i miss jim hopper. yes we exist

Joyce sat down on the bed of her recently unpacked room. She hadn’t realized just how much stuff they had until they were moving into their new place. Moving out seemed so much easier, and she couldn’t put a finger onto why. She wiped her forehead, and looked over to the small stack of boxes that still remained. One stood out to her, and made her frown. A box, with ‘Hopper’ written in Sharpie on the side. She was going to give it all to El, but had kept it in her room, too upset to let it go, even though it deserved to be with El. 

Ever since the move, Hopper had been the one thing that stayed dormant in her mind. His death reminded her too heavily of Bob’s. It seemed like whenever she fell anywhere near in love with someone who was deserving of it, they were taken away. Killed. It was like she was cursed, and anyone who was remotely good to her would die horribly. They wouldn’t grow old with her, and eventually pass away naturally… they would be killed. Joyce hated that thought, but she couldn’t help but think it to be true. 

She got up, and walked over to the stack of boxes, taking the one off the top and putting it to the side so she could grab the one entitled with Hopper’s name. She moved back to the bed and sat down. She opened the box, and already felt her eyes welling with tears. Just seeing his uniform was enough to make her emotional. It made her think of him, and therefore, made her sad. Mad, even. She was mad that he was taken from her. They had made plans, and those plans were destroyed. Maybe she would have stayed in Hawkins if things hadn’t ended the way they did. If Hop had survived, and wrapped his arms around her and held her close like he did when she needed comforting. Hop had always been good at comforting her. She missed the feeling.

Joyce pulled out his uniform and placed it to the side. At the bottom of the box, there was a tape. She put the box on the ground in front of her. She hadn’t remembered putting a tape in there, seeing as she had packed the box. El might have slipped it in and it fell under his uniform during the move. She sighed and reached down, grabbing the tape, and flipping it over. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest.

The title simply read:

‘ **Joyce** ’ in Hopper’s handwriting.

Joyce rubbed her thumb against the sticker on the tape. Her curiosity got the best of her. She knew that Jonathan had gave Will his radio, which happened to have a cassette player in it. Knowing that Jonathan had taken Will and El on a drive to get to know the town, she got up and rushed into Will’s room. She took out the current tape that sat in the player, and inserted the one named Joyce.

Joyce sat on the edge of Will’s bed, and stared at the radio as the tape started to roll. Her shoulders shrunk as the sound of music began to play. It was a mixtape. Hopper had made her a mixtape. 

‘Can’t Seem To Make You Mine’ by The Seeds was playing, and Joyce felt her heart both flutter, and sink in her chest. She covered her mouth, and her tears were unavoidable. Hopper really did like her. She felt like a teenager again in those few minutes as the song played; as tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. She wouldn’t even be able to tell Hopper how she felt in return. The most Hopper got was the plans for a date, a real date. But that didn’t mean a lot. All of the times their hands touched, or Joyce moved closer to him, it was all an attempt of saying how she felt without using words. She supposed this mixtape was Hopper’s way of doing the same thing. Telling her without his own words, just a mixtape named Joyce.

‘More Than a Feeling’ by Boston. Not only were these very Hopper-esque songs, that of which she could picture him listening to in the car on the way to the station, but they were songs about unrequited love. Hopper had no idea that the feelings were mutual. He probably hid this somewhere after the whole instance of Joyce blowing him off. Joyce felt terrible. She wished she could turn back time and just go back to the Russian base, and tell him that she loved him. 

Joyce took the mixtape out of the player, and held it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the sticker. The light shade of lipstick she wore stuck to it, and concealed it. She got up, and put Will’s own mixtape back into his player, and walked back into her own room, sitting back on her bed. She looked down to the tape in her hands, and tried to ignore the tears that continued to roll down her face, and drop down from her chin onto her shirt. She placed the mixtape down on her bedside table, and grabbed Hop’s uniform, hugging it to her chest. She brought her legs up and let herself cry into the beige fabric. “I miss you so much.” She sobbed, gripping so tightly onto his uniform her knuckles turned white. For a moment, she pictured him sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She went to rest against him, but instead, caught herself from falling over. She adjusted her posture, and composed herself. Her thumb brushed against the fabric of Hop’s uniform, which was now stained by her tears. She was a mess. All she wanted was to see him again. To latch onto him and tell him everything and kiss his shoulder because that’s all she could manage to reach without standing on her tiptoes. She wanted to feel him wrap his arms around her and hold her close, and stay there for minutes, or hours, or days. She just wanted to be with him. 

But of course, to see him again was seemingly impossible. Time travel was fake, and even if it wasn’t, there might have been no saving him. The worst had happened, and now he was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it but mourn. Listen to the mixtape, hold onto his uniform, and mourn.


End file.
